Equestria's Ray of Hope

by The_Darker_Fonts

Humility for Pride

Apple Bloom wasn’t at Rarity’s when he’d checked, nobody was, but he did find a couple of notes pinned up. He skimmed through them candidly, finding them to be nothing but orders for new dresses and suits. He repinned them up, treading slowly back home.

When he arrived back home, he bathed and cooked himself a large bowl of noodles and cheese, somewhat resembling a cheesy spaghetti. Otolo tried a few noodles with him, although she seemed rather disappointed that they weren’t abundantly worms. He chuckled lightly as the little bird gave him a disdainful chirp, which led to him being pecked on his neck. Naturally. He flicked at her with a harmless pinky, landing a slighted blow on her breast. Of course, with the distinct size difference, the hit pushed the little bird into the air, irking her greatly.

This devolved into an aerial battle between the two, with Otolo dive bombing his head, neck, and occasionally ears, with pecks. Ray tried uselessly to stop the barrage, the geometry of the bird and her movement being too hard to handle. Eventually he resorted to using his hands to cover his head haplessly. Thinking fast, he reached down to the bowl, picking it up and holding it up in the direction Otolo was coming from next.

Squawking in surprise, she attempted to swerve away, but Ray had already predicted the movement, catching her in the bowl. The noodles tangled around her, the cheese sticking to her feathers like stringy yellow ropes. Despairing, she looked up, looking miserable in the face of her sudden, unpredictable defeat. Ray gave her a luxurious sneer down at the bird, before realizing that there really wasn’t much victory in beating an eight ounce bird in a four minute long fight.

Reaching down, he pulled the remaining noodles off of her, freeing her from their constraints. Slowly lifting her out of the bowl, he said, “I think we should probably clean you up, Ohs.” He received a defeated chirp of agreement. “Alright, I’m gonna take you to the sink. Just don’t peck me or anything while I’m washing you, or I might accidentally drown you.” Once again, Otolo gave him the defeated chirp of agreement, looking quite pitiful speckled with cheese and noodle bits.

He flipped the faucet on, turning the heat to a lukewarm temperature, tucking her under the water carefully. Using his fingers carefully to get the cheese out from in between the birds silky, delicate feathers, he kept her under back under the water. She ruffled herself a few times in disappointment and discomfort, but over the next few minutes he was able to remove the food scraps from her brown and grey feathers. Removing the scraps from her head was an ordeal in itself, but with dexterous finger work, he was able to come through.

Otolo chirped happily when she was removed from the line of water, and quickly flapped about, spraying droplets of water onto Ray’s shirt. Chuckling lightly, he continued to wipe the bird down with a tablecloth he knew was in a cupboard under the sink. Once she was dry enough and safe enough from being suffocated one way or another, the little bird gave him a characteristic chirp of haughtiness before pecking his knuckle.

“Ohs, you really need to learn some manners,” Ray muttered to her, rubbing the assaulted knuckle. “You’re gonna poke at the wrong person some day and become a nice little roasted dinner.” After a moment of reconsideration, he added, “Not that there’s much to roast.”

A yawn escaped the duo at the same time, which led to Ray checking the time. Only nine, and he was already rather tired. Stretching out his aching arm a bit more, he began to head upstairs. Despite the nonchalance he felt towards the day ending, he was actually glad such a turbulent day was ending. It felt like, for the first time, the days here were getting shorter.

********************************************************************************************************

Ray’s sleep was, for the life of him, forgettable. It sounded weird in his head, and it was hard to think of, but when he had returned to his bedroom, he hadn’t fully “fallen asleep”. He didn’t remember that he was asleep at all, or even know if he was sleeping at all that night. Only the passing of darkness to sunrise proved to him that indeed he had slept, or at least, filled the time somehow. It was a confusing prospect to wake up to, but luckily something else caught his attention whilst he was pondering it all.

Something was plastered to his window, something yellow and papery, with scribbled words barely visible from where he stood. He approached the window tiredly, checking the time. He still had a good hour before he had to leave.

Reaching the window, he saw that it had been taped up there somehow. For a moment he questioned how it’d gotten there, but he remembered quickly that he lived in a world with flying ponies. However, only three flying ponies he knew of really knew him, and everyone else were just acquaintances or ponies he’d seen around the town. It also couldn’t have been Otolo, seeing as the little bird had been sleeping besides his head until he’d gotten up. The annoying thing about it being plastered to his window was that it was going to be hard to remove immediately, but at least he could still read it.

The paper advertised something called the “Running of the Leaves”, some sort of grand event. He skimmed over it and, unsurprisingly found that it was a race of some sort, apparently to knock all of the leaves off the trees. Ray scrunched his face in confusion, at the prospect, before finding and reading a small, scrappy notation added by hand. Or, hoof, he amended mentally.

“Thought you might want to know ‘bout this,” it read. “The Running of the Leaves is something we do as a town every year. Was wondering if you were up for a race that day -Rainbow Dash”.

Tipping his head uncertainly, he wondered what was up with the ominocity of it all. It probably would’ve been easier for Rainbow to tell him in person. Maybe she had something going on? Oh well, he thought languidly, turning to get dressed in a new pair of clothes. He didn’t remember it, but apparently he’d gotten back into his clothes from the day before.

Thankfully, and confusingly, Ray found pairs of underwear rolled up with one of the shirts. Hadn’t he avoided the matter of the smaller, more private pants with the mare? Then again… had Twilight given her friend a deal of intuition about human apparel on the last visit? He didn’t know, and he wouldn’t know until there was a flash in his room, right beside him.

Yelping, he jumped away as Discord appeared before him with a loud, “Good morning, my tall, bipedal friend. Do you like them?” Ray gave the draconequus a strange glance. “Oh c’mon, Ray. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t get you a welcoming gift, or even go to your welcoming party, so I figured getting you a gift the ‘regular folk’ wouldn’t understand. Pinkie told me all about it last night.” He leaned in close to Ray’s face with a sharp glare. “Including how you attempted to seduce poor, innocent Flutters.”

Ray pulled back in a jumble of disgust, horror, and confusion. “What the-”

“I also saw you two in the Acres last night, hm,” Discord interrupted, glaring even harder. “I mean, seriously, how brazen can you be? At least I had the decency to be flirty before I tried any moves! You’ve been here for, what, four days, and you’re already trying things with my dearest friend? Well, let me tell you something, mister. If I-”

“Discord,” Ray yelled, cutting in before crap got deeper. “Did you not hear anything we told each other last night? And you can ask the others about the party thing. Wanna see why she was in my room,” he asked furiously.

“Oh I know why you had her in your room,” he answered solemnly, his eyes shooting down to the arm where the wound was still scabbing over. His eyes narrowed, and flames seemed to appear in their depths. “Even more important, though, is what you said in the Acres.” Slowly, Ray saw Discord relaxing into a sideways smile. Poking him the chest with his talon hand, he continued, “You said you’d be friends. Well, let me just say this: I approve, although it won’t last.”

“Whaddya mean,” Ray found himself questioning, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why won’t we be friends?”

Discord chuckled like there was some sort of inside joke that Ray wasn’t understanding, before stating factually, “Kid, I’ve lived around ponies for a few thousand years. Even if a third of that was in stone, I know enough about ponies to tell when they're being dishonest, even when they think they aren’t. Well, let me congratulate you. You’ve received a very coveted spot in Fluttershy’s heart.”

Discord suddenly flashed, a tuxedo with a red tie and rose pinned to it appearing on him. His goatee was suddenly a moustache that was oily black and curled like some sort of English noble. Otolo, somewhere in the room, made an exclamatory chirp of surprise, reciprocating Ray’s own bewilderment. With gusto, Discord held out his lion’s paw, saying, “Game on, my good man. Game on.”

When Ray didn’t take the paw and only stared in confusion, the draconequus sighed and took it roughly, shaking it swiftly. As soon as he was done shaking the confused human’s hand, he dropped it, bowed, and poofed out of existence. In his place was a plate of steaming eggs, toast, and oatmeal.

Shaking his head in confusion he bent down to pick up the plate, when a slightly muffled voice said, “Yup, that’s Discord for you! Poofing up and down and left and right, spreading chaos and plot!”

“Gah,” Ray yelled, turning to the window, where the sound had come from. Standing on the little landing was a certain pink pony, holding another paper that was also pink, against the window.

“Pinkie Pie,” he began awkwardly, unused to the name. “What’re you doing here? Why’re you on my window sill.”

“To invite you to a party, silly,” she exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course. “Twilight’s-second-year-of-ruling-Equestria party, to be specific!”

“At…” -Ray checked the time- “5:34 in the morning?”

“Well, you’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes, but what if I was asleep still?”

“Oh don’t worry your little head at all,” Pinkie assured, somehow opening the window from the outside. “I know when you wake up!”

“Comforting,” he muttered as the little pony jumped up and stuck the pink paper to the front of his chest. Quickly, he realized that he’d started undressing, which meant not only that his shirt wasn’t on, but that his pants were lazily unzipped. He yelped at the realization, turning around quickly and zipping it back up.

“Oh come on Ray,” the little pink pony whined. “It’s not like us ponies have any real decency,” she explained tiredly as he turned around. She suddenly stood up on two legs, showing all. Ray jerked back around before he could see anything.

“Pinkie Pie,” he yelled sharply. “Get outta my house!”

“Sheesh,” he heard her mutter as she turned to leave. “Boy gets the view of his life and he looks away!”

“Aren’t you married or something?”

“Yesseroni! Like I said, nopony here gives a hoof!”

“Well I do.”

“Fine fine. See you at the party,” she called in her unnaturally cheery tone.

Ray bent back down, shaking his head in disbelief as he grabbed the breakfast plate. “Whatta way to wake up,” he muttered to himself.

“Welcome to Equestria,” a voice blandly spoke from behind.

“Oh what the- “
*******************************************************************************************************

Skalos had never been to Ponyville before, or any of the modernized cities in Equestria, for that matter. He wasn’t disappointed by the progress he saw in the more modern town, but it was a bit strange to see the same road he had traveled hundreds of years before so regularly trodden on by smiling ponies. These ponies were uneducated on their past, and for their own good. Still, he shivered at the uncanny sight. He knew where a peach stand stood, so had a pile of bodies six stallions tall, and where a house now stood was where his archers had let volleys upon the fleeing citizens.

Shaking the thoughts away mentally, he watched as his lordling stood up in his window, reading the paper left by the pegasus mare. He watched steadily as the great Lord of Chas suddenly appeared next to the human boy, watched their short argument, and the sudden disappearance of the being. He saw the pink earth pony mare appear as suddenly and quickly as Discord, and decided he’d watched long enough. He entered the house through the lazily unlocked front door, shuddering inwardly as he remembered times in his childhood when there was reason to lock the doors at night, when monsters roamed.

He casually walked up the stairs, listening to the resident and visitor’s conversation. He strode through the open bedroom door to the shirtless human boy, just in time to hear him mutter grumpily, “Whatta way to wake up.”

“Welcome to Equestria,” Skalos blandly stated from behind. The human turned to him, jumping away from a plate of something from the ground with a vulgar cry. Raising a brow at the outburst, the skeletal pony walked forward to the human, straight-faced. The boy sighed, giving him a slightly bothered glance.

“Thanks for that,” he thanked flatly, picking up the plate from off of the ground. He seemed to take a moment of reconsidering, before asking with a slight flush, “Could you please leave me for a second to get changed?”

“No,” Skalos answered simplistically. “There’s no no room for decency when you’re in a compact army camp. You learn to live with the fact that every soldier you know has seen you, and that, no matter how hard you try, you’ll see them. And I can almost guarantee that with those flimsy clothes you insist on wearing, you’ll one day find yourself relieved of them in the heat of battle. In order to rid yourself of this sort of conduct, you need to become comfortable with the fact that you are only decent when with civilization. In war, there is no civilization.”

“You didn’t have to rant,” the lordling muttered, turning his bare back to the Fallen. With a last glance over his shoulder, the human stripped naked. Skalos watched the nude figure with disinterest, until he pulled on new articles from the ground.

When he turned back around, dressed in a new pair of clothes, he seemed slightly embarrassed. Figures, giving the situation and the sense of decency these kind had, but he’d have to learn to disregard it otherwise. While Skalos had overexaggerated the example, he knew the possibility of it wasn’t incredibly unlikely, and it was better to be prepared for the occasion. Taking a good glance at the human’s clothing, he noted that the pants were thick enough to resist some of the wear and tear of the ground in the Apple’s farm. Perfect, but for a different day. He’d have to remind him to wear these sort of pants when the day came up, but for now, lessons.

“Come on,” Skalos instructed, turning to exit the room. He heard the human’s soft footfalls behind him, along with the sounds of eating. It was convenient that the draconequus had left the plate of food behind, as it meant that they didn’t have to inconveniently stop to get him food.

Now there was a meaningless word to him. Skalos hadn’t eaten in the past few days, and didn’t know if he would today or tomorrow. While the results of not eating were noticeable, that being him being slower in speed and thought, it wasn’t noticeable enough to cause him to turn to it. While Fallen did eat, and require the sustenance and energy from food, they didn’t feel it so much as living creatures, or at least, more alive creatures. Hunger appeared only as a slowing down and dysfunctioning in the physical and mental workings. The most common form to test hunger was to see how high up one could count in the hundreds before skipping or repeating a number.

In the past three days, he’d passed the few examinations given by the self stated, and later affirmed, doctors of the Fallen. It was another strange thing to him about the changes he’d seen in his ponies. Some, now that war had “ended” for them, had turned to finding new passions, new reasons to themselves besides the obvious. And now, here they were, fifteen hundred years later, being called up for their true purpose. Being the honorable meat shields of Equestria.

Or at least, that was how it had seemed, how he’d always seen it. He knew that there was no strength amongst his allies, not mentally, physically, or spiritually. In spite of their experience with war, their leaders had been removed, and they, the spears and bows, now had to learn to shoot and stab better than the enemy. It was an impossible feat, he told the Princesses when they cared to visit and ensure that their lowliest citizens were still surviving at the bare minimum.

He’d been made leader of the Fallen not through only his ability against Twilight in the board game, but because he at least understood. When Twilight had first been introduced to the Fallen, he was already their leader by culture, thanks to his ability to keep ponies off of spears. Still, those deaths hurt, especially the ones he’d watched. It was ironic that they’d been given their fate for wanting life, but were now trying to escape it through ridding themselves of it. A less controlled Skalos would have let mirthless smile, even chuckle, out, but he’d become something that he didn’t recognize these days.

Was he truly a pony anymore, still keeping his will to harm and kill, or had they, by having that evil portion of them retained, become something more? He certainly knew that he had become something that none of the ponies back from home would recognize. And a great deal of the remaining Fallen had become something that he never remembered them as.

Some had become darker, more self servient and reclusive in their time in Tartarus. There was a great deal of them, a larger portion he felt, than those who were the opposite. Those that were before terrified by death, who had seemed like killers in the field who only killed to live, had become more childish. He’d seen them reverse their age over the years, becoming more and more like foals and less like the soldiers they had been. At times, he even doubted that, once before, they had been a feared army of over eighteen thousand. Now, they seemed to be just like the ponies that were in the living world, as he called it.

One of the privileges of being the esteemed leader of the Fallen was to be able to, with an escort, view the world now. It would be fruitless to relate to, to teach, or attempt to instruct anyone who’d lived in the modern world, or at least, partially so. With that came a sense of knowledge, that he at times knew what the Princess didn’t, or that there were moments when he remembered that there was no such thing as singularity within Equestria. There was a reason the land was named for its equality, not just the country of ponies, but the land where dragons, hippogriffs, griffons, yaks, bison, and changelings lived. It was forgotten by the modern world, as the ponies now referred to everyone as “everypony”, and nobody with “nopony”. Strangely, the more Skalos saw about the modern world, the more he learned of the past, and the better he knew the past and his past, the more he could care for the future.

“Where are we going,” the boy behind him suddenly asked, Skalos’ ears instantly picking up the broaching noise. “This isn’t the way to the Apple’s.”

Looking back at the human, he was delighted to see that, without instruction, the boy had grabbed his spear. Answering instantly, he said, “This isn’t the way to the Apple’s. There is no singular way, because there are multiple ways. This is a way to get to the farm, and more specifically, the lake where we’ll be training.” Oh how these moments presented themselves, Skalos relinquished to himself, continuing to teach. “A great deal of opportunities exist to answer our problems. There isn’t a specific way. As long as it works and does its purpose effectively, it is a path that can and may be taken. There will be times when only you see that path, and you must take that way to complete your goal. In those cases, know that we Fallen will be right beside you, succeeding or failing with you.”

The boy gave him an unsure, yet amusing glance. “That’s comforting,” he stated sarcastically, prompting the Fallen to raise his brow.

“It should be. You’ll want seventeen thousand spears behind you when you face off against the minotaurs.”

The boy laughed, earnestly laughed, at the Fallen’s statement, making Skalos smile slightly at him. It wasn’t the most profound or enjoyable smile, but for the first time in a long while, it was a truthful smile, and that was what mattered. He knew that the boy was not only the right choice, but perfect choice for Equestria and the Fallen. Whatever had happened yesterday, the cruel mental attack he’d endured, had really changed him for the better. At the moment, Skalos didn’t know whether the “him” was for himself, or for the boy. Because for either, it was true.

There was a constricted feeling in Skalos’ chest as he looked away from the boy and out over the rolling grassy knolls. It was one that he hadn’t often felt in his life, in Tartarus or otherwise. He knew it was something rarer, more exquisite than what one felt when living in a village farming. It was a feeling that was unique in the sense that it only came before the worse, and searched for the better. A feeling that fed countries, encouraged populations, and survived wars. The feeling was nameless, but labeled by the populace as hope. Four letters that could not contain the sincerity of the feeling were all that were given to the grandest emotion Skalos had even felt.

Still keeping his face forward, he asked the figure behind him, “Why did you leave in such a hurry yesterday? I was watching you to ensure that your integrity could be undoubted, and saw that, until the pegasus mare came, you didn’t touch the ground with it. So when you heard the screaming, why did you drop your weapon and run?”

He heard the footfalls behind him slow slightly as the boy took his time thinking of his answer. He didn’t doubt the fact that the reason was at least understandable, if not a bit illogical, but he wanted to better know the reasoning and thought behind the human. After thirty three seconds of deliberation, he responded truthfully, “I wasn’t thinking straight. As you probably know, yesterday was a… complicated day, and while that’s no excuse, I think my instinct trusted my own two hands with the job more than something I’d just been given.”

“I see,” the Fallen replied with understanding, daring a slight glance back. The human seemed at least slightly downput by the revelation that the moment between him and the pink pegasus hadn’t been private. Privacy seemed to be a key ideology of the human folk, but beyond that, he knew the feeling of being exposed. The Lunar Princess had laid bare the entirety of the Fallen on their day of damnation, and had made the undeniable truth prevalent in their minds. It wasn’t a pleasant experience then, and even with the less extreme situation, he knew it wasn’t any better.

Turning back to the forest that they were now skirting the edge of, he asked, “Do you know what this place is? The forest, I mean?”

“Yeah,” the boy answered slowly. “It’s the Everfree Forest or something like that, right?”

“Indeed. And do you know why it is so feared by the ponies that inhabit the area around it?”

“Because they don’t know enough about it,” he answered questioningly. “They don’t know exactly what is in it?”

“Precisely,” Skalos responded proudly. The intuition of the human was impressive, and from the sound of it, presented from self experience. How fortunate for the situation, but unfortunate for him. Regardless though, he continued. “The Everfree is as dangerous as ponies fear, but only in the deeper sections of the forest. The Timberwolves and cockatrices reside in the darker portions of the forest, where they don’t have to worry about invading ponies. They don't want to see them as much as they.”

Skirting through the edge of the forest, deep enough in it that they wouldn’t be seen through the thick brush, but close enough that they could still see the town through little peepholes between leaves, he led the human on. “There aren’t many things that ponies aren’t afraid of, and I believe that you humans can relate well to this. In my time, ponies feared everything they didn’t know, which was virtually everything outside of their snug homes and cozy towns. Nowadays, they fear less things, but the things they still don’t understand are feared even more.

“Remember this, lordling,” Skalos instructed as they approached a picket fence with a gate pointing towards the forest. The gate led into a back section of the Acres, where the trees were younger and still growing in size. “You may lead veterans, and they may have more experience than you in war, but you know more, and thus, fear less. Be fearless in all things, be it battle, living, and loving. If you fear, then you fail. And as you must know painfully, there isn’t room for failure for any of us.”

Behind him, he could tell the human was nodding. A small, confident expression spread across Skalos’ face. Not quite a smile, but a tweaking of his lips that could have been mistaken for one if looked at wrong. There were few times left in Skalos’ life where he felt pride in himself, considering the reason behind why his experience was much longer than most’s. One of those times was now, and knowing the human was the leader, the commander, and person he was, he was proud to be serving him.

Passing through the gate, they walked across the expansive rows of apple trees. Thanks to the small stature of the youthful trees, they were able to see the larger, older trees dotted with ripe, red apples. They continued on silently, the boy with his thoughts and the Fallen with the sights of the Acres. It’d been long ago, but Skalos still remembered raiding this very same valley. The greatest mistake of his life, worse than joining the ranks of King Sombra or betraying the two Princesses. He grimaced at the gruesome memories, turning sharply around the tree with a reigned anger.

They reached the old, barely visible path that led to the lake and Skalos’ temporary residency beside it. Seeing as he was to daily train Equestria’s champion, Twilight had given him undeserved and premature amnesty, letting him live in the world above. Of course, it came with tight restrictions about not being seen by anyone who wasn’t in on the scheme to defend Equestria, but there were some freedoms. His own personal guard, for one, who watched him whenever the Fallen wanted to approach anywhere that ray wasn’t, and was to ensure no one saw him. They hadn’t said a word to each other, and Skalos preferred it that way.

He still lived with the Fallen in Tartarus, at least partially, to help reinstruct them and keep them in the condition needed for war, but a majority of his time was in the living world. There was much more reason to be in the living world, from the overall joy he felt to be back, seeing, feeling, smelling, and hearing the way it worked, to the much more important fact of watching over and learning of his charge and commander. Still, he had some sort of attachment to the depths of Tartarus and the glowing blue-gray of the Fallen’s home. He didn’t know exactly why the damning caves were so welcoming to him, but every time he returned, ever since meeting the human, he hadn’t released a disappointed sigh or saddened huff. Truthfully, there was no reason to be disappointed in their past mistakes. Maybe the Foals were correct in some way. He’d begun to realize so.

They were by the lake at that point. Straightening up slightly from a bent thinking position, he told the human, “Today, lordling, we will be teaching you to respect your weaponry, be that the spear, the sword, the bow, or any other object you may use in the coming war. I’m sure that you know from personal experience how valuable a life is. It isn’t able to be defined by any sentient proportion, and to try to comprehend exactly how incredibly powerful one living thing is, compared to all of the inanimate objects around us, is impossible.

“Have you, however, ever realized how powerful one might be when combining the might of sentience with the strength of inanimacy? It creates something more powerful than either thing alone. Something that can destroy both. You see, lordling, it is this incredible power that is confined in the weapon, not the actual object itself. A sword, even the most well made, cannot harm anything without being wielded by a sentient being. It is through this unity that an object becomes a weapon.

“Just like your pet, however, you must gain a spiritual connection to it, otherwise it will be something enslaved by you. An enslaved object may become a weapon, but it isn’t fulfilled to its maximum potential. There is no way a chained object can have fluidity, and there is no way a soldier can survive without the fluidity of their weapon.”

Seeing the confused expression on the human’s face, Skalos gave him a simpler version. “If you don’t know the power of your weapon, you can’t use that power correctly.”

A light seemed to go off in his eyes as he understood what Skalos was teaching him. Nodding his head, the boy held out his spear, not like he was handing it over, but like he was admiring it. It was always something that Skalos appreciated about teaching the boy and his comrades in Tartarus. That moment where they realized with fullness what their job, their purpose meant, and what they held in their hand or hoof meant for them. It was such a simple moment to the outside viewer, but to him, he saw it as the moment that their commitment as a soldier became their reality. It was a somber moment that made Skalos both proud and resigned. Seeing it with the human, it was a strange mixture of all, and something else. Compassion.

A few moments later, the human looked away and nodded again, to Skalos this time. He returned it with his own nod. The human knew now.

Straightening up, he snapped his hoof against the ground, intentionally hitting a rock sharply. The human flinched at the sudden sound as Skalos called out, “Now, you can’t respect your weapon without knowing the true power that you wield with it. In the lodge are some hay dummies. Bring them out. Prepare yourself, lordling. Today you learn to stab an inanimate being.”

Author's Note:

I felt it would be appropriate to give you six pages and 3300 words of Skalos' inner monologue. Look forward to the first chapter of Chronicles of the Reformed... soon!

Comments

[Derpybrony890]

I really just love this. You give different emotional views in other characters rather than just Ray's. I truly admire that because so many books I read that's not in the first person only rely on one person's views, which makes all of the other characters seem second-handed, I do tend to find a few gems, and you have made it on that list. I like Skalo's conflicts he has when he notices certain parts of Ponyville, which adds to the guilt he presents himself with knowing that the Fallen could have avoided their fate. All this just makes me want to see Chronicles of the Reformed even more to understand everything about the Fallen.

[The_Darker_Fonts]

10590791
Actually, Chronicles of the Reformed isn't the Fallen's book. That comes out once we see the true might of the Fallen in battle. So basically, whenever we get through the first battle of this book. Chronicles of the Reformed is about a villain/villainess that is being reformed during all of this, and how they are involved with everything on the home front of this. I'm pretty sure I'll name the Fallen's book "In Honor of the Living Dead" or "The Damned's War". Might have to do a poll on it. Glad you look forward to it, though.

[Derpybrony890]

10590818
leave it to me to be assumptive . However, that does sound like a fascinating storyline nonetheless. I do like the name "The Damned's War" as a title too.

[The_Darker_Fonts]

10591245
Oh, that's not being assumptive, just me not giving the right context. I mean, I haven't announce the story in a blog post yet, but I have mentioned writing a series for the Fallen, so it's only natural.

[sykko]

“Just like your pet, however, you must gain a spiritual connection to it, otherwise it will be something enslaved by you. An enslaved object may become a weapon, but it isn’t fulfilled to its maximum potential. There is no way a chained object can have fluidity, and there is no way a soldier can survive without the fluidity of their weapon.”

The sword contains the warrior's soul.

[The_Darker_Fonts]

10655961
Amen.